


Oubliette

by mickeym



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-28
Updated: 2009-08-28
Packaged: 2018-01-18 20:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1441729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sam</i> really <i>needs to take a leak, and the rain isn't helping.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Oubliette

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the blindfold_spn meme, for the prompt: _Sam/Dean: Sam and Dean get trapped somewhere (tight space, your choice) and Sam has to piss really bad. He's pressed up against Dean when he loses it, and pisses them both. Turns out they get off on it and they both come from the experience._
> 
> I had fun with it; hopefully y'all will enjoy it :)

In a way, this whatever-the-heck-they're-in reminds Sam of an oubliette. Well, no reminding; it _is_ an oubliette, just, Sam's pretty sure they stopped being used back in the eighteen-hundreds. In Europe. Where he and Dean most definitely aren't.

There's almost no room between them, or around them, Sam's back already has a crick in it from slouching down so he doesn't hit his head on the bars up above, and to top it all off, it's raining. Not on them, precisely, because of the way the oubliette is angled. But Sam hears the rain falling, hears the wet sound of it all around him, and it's making him overly aware of the fact that he's had to piss for a really long time, now. He shifts a little, trying to wiggle upright an inch or two, and freezes when Dean sucks in a breath.

"Would you stop squirming, Sam? Jesus." 

"Trying to stretch my back a little, sorry." Stretch his back, relieve his bladder, and dammit, he knew he shouldn't think about that. 

"You just about kneed me in the nuts trying to stretch," Dean snaps. He wriggles, and this time it's Sam scowling, because it feels like every tiny movement is pushing against his bladder. "What?"

"Nothing." Sam closes his eyes and tries thinking about being anywhere else – and how the hell they're going to get out of _here_ is totally beyond him – but he keeps getting distracted by the sound of falling rain. "I just—the rain's bugging me."

The chuff of breath when Dean laughs spreads warmly across Sam's lips, making them tingle. "The rain's bugging you," he repeats, one eyebrow raised. "Dude."

"The sound." There's no way he wants to have this conversation with Dean. Which is really funny, when Sam thinks about it, because, what, he'll fuck his brother but he doesn't want to tell him he's about to wet his pants if the _goddamned rain doesn't stop falling_?

"The sound." Apparently there won't be a conversation, because Dean's just going to parrot everything he says back to him. "Sam, what—what the hell are you talking about?"

Exasperation coils through Sam, and he sighs, then wiggles when the movement makes the throbbing down low echo inside him, magnifying every time he thinks about it. He closes his eyes, not sure if that makes things better, or worse. "I have to take a leak, okay? I feel like my fucking teeth are floating, and the rain—isn't helping."

Dean's uncharacteristically quiet, and when Sam opens his eyes to see why, he's startled by the flush across Dean's cheekbones and the odd look Dean's giving him.

"Dean?"

"You can—y'know." Dean shifts, waving one hand in between them, and just that much movement makes Sam's bladder scream for release. "Here. I don't—mind."

Sam stares, not sure he totally understands. "You. I. Dean," he finishes, the word coming out rough and trembling. 

"Do it," Dean whispers hoarsely, bumping against Sam. He gasps and shudders, bites down on a moan. Dean does it again, bumping harder, then rubbing, and he's hard behind his jeans. Sam can feel it, the thick length of Dean's dick swelling, filling, knows Dean's probably throbbing like Sam is, if for different reasons.

"I—can't," he says, but God, the urge is strong.

"Yeah you can." Dean leans in and brushes a kiss across Sam's mouth, whisper-soft and gone almost immediately. "Want you to."

This is so not the place, or the time, but Sam's not sure he cares any more. He nods, watching Dean's eyes darken, pupils widening, swallowing up the green. 

"Help me?" Sam isn't sure what sort of help he's asking for or what help Dean can give him; isn't sure he really can do this, despite the nearly overwhelming pressure and urge to go.

Dean leans into him, wriggles one hand in between them and just _pushes_ , right where Sam's bladder rests. It's too much, taken completely out of Sam's control then. He closes his eyes as the sensation sweeps through him, shame and pleasure mingling, joined by relief as wet heat soaks his underwear, and then his jeans, and then onto Dean's jeans.

"Oh, God. Sam." 

Sam shudders when Dean shifts, trying to get closer, the one hand still pressing against Sam's lower belly, rubbing and stroking through the wet material, grunting when Sam pushes back, cock already filling, lengthening, hardening.

He breathes and shakes through the last couple of spurts – harder, now that he's hard – and then Dean is up in his face, mouth open, seeking Sam's. He grabs for Dean, holds them tight against one another while they grind and rub, their kisses desperate, frantic.

Sam feels it when Dean comes; feels Dean pulsing behind the wet denim. He swallows Dean's growl and rubs faster, heat spiraling outward through him as Dean gasps through his orgasm. Sam comes in his pants a few seconds after Dean, shivering and jerking with each spurt, more slick heat joining the other, leaving him sticky and wet and gasping for air.

"Wow," he mutters, when he's got enough breath back to speak. 

"Yeah." Dean shifts, but there isn't any more room than there was ten minutes ago, and he ends up just brushing up against Sam again, making Sam's nerve endings jangle when his cock rubs against the fabric clinging to him. "Um."

"Not now." There is absolutely nothing in the world that Sam wants less than to have any kind of conversation about this right now, and preferably ever. It's getting darker out, meaning the sun's going down, and now they're both soaked, which means it'll be getting chilly fast. "Let's just—figure out how to get out of here, okay?"

Dean's quiet again for a moment, then nods. "Yeah. Okay."

~fin~


End file.
